


Field Trip

by eponymous_rose



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Character Study, Community: fandom_stocking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponymous_rose/pseuds/eponymous_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonas Quinn, explorer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for cosmic_celery's fandom_stocking.

It was the first time they'd let Jonas off-base without obvious supervision, though he was pretty sure they'd sent some appropriately discreet people to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't, well, do something un-Earthly. Short of jumping up and down and proclaiming to the world at large that he was an alien, he wasn't entirely sure what they were expecting him to do, but he didn't mind. He'd had enough to do with politics on his own world to get an idea of the harm he could inflict here, and he certainly trusted General Hammond enough to go along with any requirements.

Teal'c had offered to join him on this first, exploratory expedition – in fact, Jonas suspected he'd had a lot to do with making this little jaunt happen in the first place – but Jonas had turned him down. Some things you just had to try for yourself.

It was a chilly morning, and he withdrew the gloves he'd kept in his pockets, a useful precaution given the dire weather reports this morning. Funny, how the little things were the ones that made the biggest difference, the different fibers used in gloves, the different feel against his skin. Apart from that, he may as well have been walking down a Kelownan street, with marginally different architecture, where nobody knew his name. It was a kind of adrenaline rush, really, being in a place where he could make Jonas Quinn out to be anyone, like he was reinventing himself with every step.

The sign outside a cosy little café promised "warm slice's of pie", and, with a grin at the misspelling, Jonas walked in, stamping his feet as he entered, trying to get a bit more feeling into his toes. After the boots they always wore on missions, his running shoes seemed far too light, and he nearly lost his footing, but a smiling waitress took hold of his shoulder as she passed, and he regained his balance.

"Careful, sweetie," she said, with a smile that was definitely on the flirtatious side. "Slippery."

He shot her a broad grin. "Sorry," he said. "Cold front coming out of the west caught me a bit off-guard."

"Uh-huh," she said. "I've gotta grab a couple slices of pie, here. You sit yourself down wherever you like, and I'll be with you in a sec. Coffee?"

Jonas tugged off his gloves and perched on a stool, swivelling experimentally. "Tea's fine," he said. "Whatever you've got. Thanks."

There was a little jingle of bells as the door opened again, and he didn't have to turn to imagine the one or two people who'd just walked in, a little too stiffly, probably with military haircuts and excellent posture. Jonas resisted the urge to wave at them; better to pretend he was unaware of them, wasn't making an effort at being on his best behavior. Just an ordinary day in the life, folks, nothing to see here.

The waitress – Marsha, according to her name tag – swept up with a mug containing a tea bag that proclaimed itself to be 'Lemon Zinger'. It smelled wonderful. "Here go you, sweetie. Just stationed here, huh?"

Jonas blinked, weighed his options, and went for a cautious smile.

She patted his hand. "I thought so. All the new people up at Cheyenne Mountain take a while to get used to the weather. Wait'll you hit your first Chinook."

Jonas took a cautious sip of the tea, but it was still too hot. "I'm looking forward to it," he said, watching steam rise from his cup. "It sounds like an interesting phenomenon. Not many mountains, where I'm from, so the increasing winds and temperatures will be a new experience."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. Slush everywhere when the snow starts melting, winds howling all the time. They're a pain in the ass, if you'll pardon my French."

Jonas made a mental note to ask Sam about that particular idiom. "Sure," he said.

She took his order – he decided on the cherry pie, having heard one of Colonel O'Neill's expressive odes to the subject on their last mission – and disappeared off to the kitchen. Jonas kicked at the rungs of his stool; it was solidly built, but he thought it felt a little on the wobbly side, and he wondered idly whether Marsha was the one who had to fix that sort of thing.

Leaning back with his tea, he took stock: here he was, a truly astronomical distance from home, enjoying a peaceful breakfast among the inhabitants of another planet, on his day off work at a thrilling place of employment. Granted, he was still being tailed by his very own personal pair of airmen, and his commanding officer seemed to be waiting for him to screw up every few seconds, but all things considered, the life of Jonas Quinn was taking a turn for the better.

Marsha brought him a slice of what he was fairly sure had to be the best pie in this sector of the galaxy, and, after a few false starts where Jonas managed to evade every single question she asked him, they managed to have an entire conversation about her – she'd grown up in Colorado Springs, but her dad had recently divorced her mom, so she spent some of her time in Boulder with him. She was trying to save up enough to go to college and study art history, which gave Jonas a perfect opportunity to ask as many questions as he possibly could, since the SGC wasn't exactly well-stocked with books on the subject.

By the time Jonas had finished his slice of pie, the cook had come out three times to remind Marsha that there were, in fact, other patrons in the café. Torn somewhere between feeling a bit guilty and feeling a bit giddy, Jonas said his goodbyes, promised to come in again later that week, tipped a bit higher than the traditional amount, and headed out into the cold.

He waited outside for a few moments, giving his babysitters time to catch up, then set off again down the street, grinning at this clear new day, at all the things he was about to experience, at all the ordinary little worlds opening up before him, at the future.


End file.
